Come Dance with Me
by mabelreid
Summary: One shot tag to Virtuoso The Doctor has a new holo-program to run, but his fantasy only reminds him that he's a hologram and Seven of Nine is flesh and blood.


**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A/n this one shot takes place directly after Virtuoso_**

**_Come Dance with Me_**

The Doctor sighed as he consulted his internal chronometer. It was coming up on 2100 hours and he felt restless. He'd tided sickbay, returning it to its usual spotless perfection after a day of minor injuries associated with the crew's duty shifts. Everyone he treated had been professional despite his rude and inexcusable behavior. Still, he flinched every time the doors hissed open and that irritated him more than he knew how to express.

_Let it go!_

He strode purposefully into his office and took the chair behind his desk. He glanced over at the pile of palm-sized holo-emitters he'd tossed into a container for recycling and frowned. His eyes flicked from the refuse container and landed on the PADD Seven had given to him. A fan letter – from her. He let himself smile and thought about the sound of her voice when she read him the missive. Then, he gritted his teeth together as the urge to fall into another fantasy stirred in a long-forgotten sub-routine. He picked up the PADD and slid it into the top drawer of his desk. There. Out of sight, out of mind. Didn't humans believe that if you hide something away, you'd forget it's existence? He opened the drawer and removed the PADD.

STVSTVSTVSTVSTVSTVSTVSTV

When The Doctor materialized on the holo-deck he took a moment to survey the emitters and white lines lining the wall, and yellow lines that intersected along the floor and onto the ceiling. He studied the computer panels along the wall next to the exit. He'd seen Voyager's holo-grid many times, but for some reason, its uniformity grated on his nerves.

"Computer, activate program EMH1A and make the following alterations to the program."

Seconds later the program activated, and a ballroom resolved into view around him. It was a huge, octagonal-shaped room with several golden chandeliers hanging from the twenty-foot ceiling. Instead of electric lights, candles lit the room. The floor showed faint reflections from the lights on the black and white checkerboard floor.

The Doctor now wore a black tuxedo with a blindingly white and immaculately pressed linen shirt with a black tie and highly polished black shoes. He tugged a bit on the sleeves to be sure they hung from the shoulders properly and straightened his tie.

"Hello," said a familiar voice behind him.

He turned and saw her. She was so beautiful he could barely believe she was real and not an Olympian Goddess from Greek mythology.

_She's not real, she's a hologram, just like you._

Sometimes he wondered why he put up with the inner voice that he'd added to his program because Tom Paris once told him that humans often engaged in inner dialogues with themselves, especially in times of stress.

Seven of Nine walked toward him with a small smile on her lips and held out a hand to him. He took it and whirled her into his arms as the lights in the ballroom fluttered around them from holographic candles. They were alone, and soft music – a waltz – drifted around them in the air.

He took in the dress she wore, a long, scarlet column that set off her gorgeous figure to its best advantage. Her hair, like ripe wheat, hung in waves around her face, now free of her remaining Borg implants. She wore high heels as usual, but these were comprised of golden straps of material that crisscrossed over his bare feet. She wore glittering earrings and a long pendant that swung invitingly in the hollow of her generous cleavage.

"I'm amazed every time I see you," he whispered. "You grow more and more beautiful."

She flushed pink and said. "Thank you, William."

He felt a rush of pleasure at the name only she called him and only in this holo-generated fantasy.

"You're welcome," he replied.

The swept around the ballroom until the music ended. Seven pulled back from his and said. "Why have we not done this before," she asked breathlessly.

"I don't know. Perhaps we were afraid."

"Fear is irrelevant, it serves no purpose but to paralyze."

"As always, Annika, you're right."

"Do you realize you are the only one of the crew that calls me by my human name?"

"Only here, where we can be alone," he said as a new musical selection began to fill the air with violins, harps, and flutes.

"Yes."

They danced together for over an hour in the empty ballroom. He never felt the fatigue that humans experienced, but he knew that Seven might need a break. "Would you like to sit?"

She pulled away from him as the music faded away. "I am strangely energized by this activity. In fact – I feel – euphoric."

"Would you like to get some air. I am told the view from the balcony is spectacular."

She nodded and he took her hand to lead her across the dance floor to a pair of double glass doors at the east end of the ballroom.

When they stepped into the night he heard her pull in a startled breath. "It is – lovely," she observed.

"It is."

He looked around him at the long, narrow stone balcony that surrounded the building. A full moon hung overhead like the eye of some watchful deity. The air was cool on his skin and smelled faintly of the city below him. The lights of the city seven stories below them substituted for stars.

"What are you thinking," she asked him as he studied the view.

"I was thinking the city is beautiful at night, but not as appealing as you, Annika."

He thought he saw a faint blush on her cheeks, but couldn't be sure because the light from the ballroom glowed from the windows instead of burning bright over her face.

"I'm not sure how to respond," she said.

"I would very much like to kiss you."

She nodded as he put his hands on either side of her face and bent to touch his lips to her mouth. She was warm and her lips were soft. The scent of roses and oranges drifted around them as they embraced the mixed with the clean scent of her skin. Gently, he probed her lips with his tongue and she opened them to permit access to her mouth. A low moan escaped as her hand tightened on the back of his neck.

He pulled back from her and stood to stare at her as she watched him with curious eyes. Her chest heaved and he noted the dilation of her pupils and the red tints in her cheeks. His better sense asserted itself and he backed away from her.

"William," said Seven. "Is everything all right?"

"I was just wondering the same about you. I should not –"

She closed the distance between them and touched his shoulder. "Don't speak."

"But, Annika –"

"Kiss me again. I – found it extremely pleasurable."

He shook his head. "I can't, Annika."

"Why?"

"Our embrace was – amazing and overwhelming," he said softly, "but it wasn't real. You're not real Annika and neither am I. We're simply photons and force fields."

"William?"

He closed his eyes against the power of her beautiful blue eyes that were the same was the skies above him in the early morning light. "Computer end program and transfer the EMH back to Sickbay."

STVSTVSTVSTVSTV

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," said the Doctor when he materialized in Sickbay.

Seven of Nine stood in front of him wearing her usual skintight maroon uniform. He swallowed and forced a smile onto his face. "Seven. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Do you not remember it is time for my weekly checkup?"

"Oh, yes of course. Come, sit down."

"Doctor is everything all right?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

Seven studied him for a minute. "You never forget my appointments."

He shrugged. "It's nothing. I needed to shut down for a few minutes. Surely as a human, you can understand the need for rest."

"I am not completely human. I do not need breaks."

"As you've told me a hundred times." He began to run a tricorder over her. "Any problems?"

"Yes."

"What is it?" He asked and his anxiety subroutine kicked in.

"I have a friend who is functioning outside of normal parameters. I am unsure of what to do."

"Perhaps there is nothing you can do," he said, stiffly.

"Every problem has a solution," Seven avowed. "You simply have to find the answer."

"Have you talked to your friend?"

"I have attempted to converse with him, but he refuses to confide in me."

"Oh."

"Doctor, must we play this game?"

The Doctor finally made eye contact with Seven and she studied him with annoyance and concern in her lovely eyes. He wanted to lean in and kiss her. He wanted to cradle her in his arms and never let her go.

"I was not aware we were playing a game." He said in a strained tone.

"As you wish. I must return to my duties."

"Yes, you're free to go."

Seven slipped off the biobed and took three steps toward the door. Then she stopped, waited and turned around. "Doctor?"

"Yes, is something else wrong?"

She studied him and then frowned. "No."

He let her walk out of sickbay because she'd never understood or notice how he felt for her. Instead, he'd bury himself in his work, his music, and his holo-photography.

The doors to sickbay slid back and admitted Tom Paris. "Hey, doc, ready for my shift"

He almost sighed with relief. For the first time in his existence aboard Voyager, he was glad for the distraction of another sentient life form, even if that life form was Tom Paris.

"You're on time for a change, Mr. Paris."

"There's always a first time for everything, doc."

"Yes," said the Doctor. "There's always a first time for everything.

He turned from his medic and picked up the tricorder he'd used to scan Seven. There was a first time for everything. A first dance, a first kiss, and a first goodbye.


End file.
